Elendor
The Truth about the Quake in Erebor
Frarin asks Ranol what he was hiding the day of the Barazin cave-in.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Erebor
Description: [Frarin(#31050)] It is some weeks now since the quake that rocked Erebor and much of the land surrounding it. The clean-up has proceeded with a pace and determination that only the dwarves can muster. Repair work on the badly damaged halls and corridors of Barazin is already begun, but in those areas where the pathway is stable enough to bear passerbys, dwarves have been allowed to return to their homes. Many still, though, must seek the good will of friends and family in areas less damaged.
Here in the Greathall of Thrain, a command post of sorts has been set up for the repairs. An assortment of tools and materials have been gathered and set aside. Repairs in the hall itself have seen much of the damaged floor shorn up again and some brave traders have even set up stalls again. Frarin is once again amongst those busy cleaning up. He is near a wall of the hall, broom in hand, working with a number of others to sweep up the still inch-thick layer of dust carpeting the hall.
Ranol just happens to be passing by, the Huskarl not involved in any clean-up or repair efforts today. When he spots Frarin he changes direction and makes his way to the Barazin. "Good day, Frarin." He says with a smile, giving the older dwarf a short bow in greeting.
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin glances up as someone says his name nearby and he smiles and nods at Ranol when he spots him. "Good day, Ranol," he says, straightening and leaning on the end of his broom. His sleeves are rolled up. "How fare you, cousin? I've seen you hardly at all in the last weeks, though this has kept me, and likely you, busy enough as is."
"I am well.. far better than a great many of your kin, at least." Ranol responds, glancing around at the efforts of the dwarves nearby. "The repairs are moving along swiftly. I haven't had a chance to speak with Thari.. did your home take damages?" He asks, his blue eyes finding Frarin again.
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin nods somberly at the mention of those hurt in Barazin, then slightly less somberly at Ranol's question about Wellinghall. "Aye, it did. Most of the furniture will need repairing or replacing and all of the best china has spilt all over. But Wellinghall itself held together surprisingly well, save for part of the kitchen wall. But nay, it shall recover well enough." The silversmith too glances around the hall, where the air is still heavy with dust. "Have you been helping with the repairs?"
"A bit.. Not as much as I would like, but my duties have kept me busy with other matters. It's probably for the best, I don't have much of a mind for mining, anyhow." Ranol says with a small twist of a smile. "Have you had lunch yet, today? I have some time free.." He suggests with a hopeful expression on his face.
[Frarin(#31050)] "Aye, that would be fine indeed," Frarin nods, as if having considered the same proposition himself. He leans his broom up against the wall near him and takes off the gloves he has been wearing. Both hands have thin bandages wrapped about the centre of the palm. "I had been hoping to speak with you, actually. Shall we say the Longbeard?"
"Sure. Are you ready now? Do you need a hand with anything?" Ranol asks, shifting to stand in a more relaxed stance. He doesn't even notice the weight of the armor he wears so often anymore, it's only another layer of the garments he dons everyday. "What do you wish to speak of?"
[Frarin(#31050)] The Longbeard isn't too busy right now, just before the lunch rush and Frarin and Ranol don't have much trouble finding a table when they enter upon the tavern. Frarin choses one comfortably close to the fire and seats himself, absently inspecting the thin bandages on either hand. "As for what I wanted to talk about," he says, as if picking up the conversation without pause, "it's to do with the day of the quake, actually." He looks up and waves to the bar dwarf.
"Oh?" Ranol asks as he sets down his shield and the warhammer against the wall, then takes a seat. "What do you want to know about?" The huskarl asks, waving a server over when one looks their way.
[Frarin(#31050)] When the server comes to their table, Frarin orders a pint and a plate of the roast beef before looking back to Ranol. He stops fiddling with his bandages and leans forward, lowering his voice somewhat. "It was about when you went to visit the Baruk Narag, actually. Or what I assume was when you went to visit the Narag. You remember you said you were going to see if there might have been some foul play involved?" Frarin leans back and shrugs off-handedly.
"I still don't see how such a thing could be possible, but you -did- come back quite serious, clearly wanting to speak with Braldor in private." The silversmith pauses, lips parting as he studies Ranol for a reaction. "I'm not trying to poke about Bundazanul business, but given the day and hour, and what I know of you, I wondered if perhaps your reason for wishing to speak to your thane was anything to do with the quake. Or with Barazin."
Ranol's smile fades when Frarin picks a very specific topic of discussion. His gaze moves away from his friend's face as he tries to decide what to share and what to keep to himself. The server arrives at the table and the Huskarl orders a bowl of stew and a mug of beer, and doesn't speak until Frarin is done ordering.
"The Baruk Narag want the business kept quiet. They didn't want the investigation to get any interferance from Barazin. Swear to me that you will be discreet Frarin. It is news you will not like hearing."
[Frarin(#31050)] It is some time before Frarin answers Ranol. He sits quite still in his chair, breathing becoming deliberate, face a mix of emotions curiosity, mild surprise, perhaps even a certain wariness, as if unsure what to expect that Ranol will say. Indeed, the two dwarves' meals and drinks arrive before the silversmith sits forward and lowers his voice, eyes narrowing.
"I am an ambassador of my clan, cousin, keep that in mind in whatever you tell me," he says slowly, weaving his fingers together on the table before him. "I know when to keep my tongue from wagging, but just as your conscience will not allow you to keep certain things from Braldor, neither will mine allow me to keep certain things from my Steward. You may trust my discretion, but keep in mind my position when you say what you will."
"Aye, I know.. that is why I only ask for discretion, Frarin." Ranol answers, reaching for his mug of ale and taking a sip. He lifts his spoon and slowly stirs the stew he ordered, letting the food cool a bit. "It was not a quake, cousin. What happened .. it was an accident of a deliberate act of vandalism. Do you recall the dispute over the new chamber that the joint group of Barazin and Zinbar discovered?"
[Frarin(#31050)] Deep lines appear as Frarin's brows draw together. Though his hand curls around his mug of beer, he touches neither it nor his roast beef. His lips part, expression wary, and slightly confused. "Master Warven's chamber?" says the silversmith finally, tipping his head a bit to the side as if unwilling to believe such a tale.
"Deliberate vandalism?" he says, voice dropping to a whisper. He pauses a moment, then lets out a little breath and slowly shakes his head, lips still parted disbelievingly. "Nay...Nay, it cannot be. That is a heavy accusation. I do not think Zinbar capable of it, not even an offended individual. What proof have you of it? There is nought between here and Bree than could have caused such a quake without the aid of the Maker himself."
"He admits it. He only intended to collapse the new chamber when they were all off on a lunch break. He said he just wanted to make their work a bit harder. He miscalculated, I guess. I'm no miner, Frarin. I think they said he messed up on one of the support columns, picked one that was crucial? The dwarf was completely distraught when the Narag came upon him.. I saw him." Ranol takes a bite of his food now, letting his friend digest the grim news.
[Frarin(#31050)] "-He- admits it?" Frarin whispers sharply, head dipping forward in deep disbelief now. But clearly the silversmith is beginning to believe the tale, even if he still resonates shock. He is silent, leaning forward like that with quickening breathing until Ranol finishes speaking. Only then does he sit back in his chair as if having been struck across the face, breathing forced into a deliberate rythym.
Lips still parted, Frarin looks towards the ceiling as if somehow it will help to disprove what Ranol says. Not surprisingly, it does not. When he does speak, it is in an oddly forced way, looking at the table, and more to himself than the huskarl. "I suppose that if he...if he destroyed a weight-bearing column and...and enough of the floors above it collapsed, it could...it could...could set off a chain reaction. Very much like a quake. But...but the chances of such a happenstance are miniscule. It would take a whole combination of factors."
Muttering to himself thus, Frarin seems trying to process the unbelievable information. Finally he looks squarely at Ranol, lips closing grimly, brows heavy, though he looks composed. "Has Barazin been told? Has -anyone- in Barazin been told? There were 27 dwarves dead at the last count. Has -Barazin- been told?"
"I don't know, Frarin. The Narag are handling it, not I. I was there at the time, that is how I know. I reported to Braldor. I don't have any further business being involved. I'm not a Black Axe and they haven't exactly shared any further details with me." Ranol gives his friend an apologetic look. "You understand the need for discretion, right? It's a delicate matter."
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin's forced breathing continues, but his gaze becomes glassy with intense thought as it drops to the tabletop again. He looks almost sick, eyes unusually wide and blinking. Finally though, he does give a very small nod towards the tabletop in answer to Ranol's question. "There has been not a whisper of this amongst Barazin's elders," says the silversmith after a time in a low rumble, looking up at Ranol. "Not a one that I have heard. Has Braldor spoken to our Steward? Please cousin, tell me not that Barazin has been kept in the blind when Bundazanul has known for fully two weeks."
"Frarin, do not put this on Braldor, please. I told you, the Baruk Narag that were with me wanted to keep it quiet until they had time to investigate fully. I don't believe anything is being covered up, I think it was only the intent to keep things calm when people needed to be focusing on other matters. I had a hard enough time concentrating that day, knowing the truth." Ranol rubs the back of his neck, then suggests. "Go and talk to Braldor. I really don't know anything else beyond what I have told you. Perhaps he did speak to some?"
[Frarin(#31050)] "I am not putting this on Braldor alone," Frarin says, an edge in his voice, but his composure remaining. "And I am not implying that anything has been covered up. But you knew, and Braldor knew, and at least some of the Narag knew. If it comes to be that not a soul in Barazin was told, when it was the target of the vandalism and the worst sufferer of it, when its neighbours all around knew--" Frarin shakes his head slowly, almost wearily now "--then there will be more than ill feelings towards Zinbar."
He leans back, eyes flicking to his plate, then back to Ranol. "Perhaps he did," he mutters finally, and as if at a loss for anything else to do, he begins to absently cut up his lunch.
"I knew because I was there Frarin.. I have only spoken to Braldor about it.. and to you. I have not even told Hildis." Ranol says softly, a guilty expression on his face now. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should have told you sooner, it was poor judgement." Or maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all. The huskarl lifts his beer to take another sip.
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin takes a tentative bite of his roast beef and follows it with a sip from his beer, but he no longer looks in the mood for eating. Indeed, he looks almost as if he would rather not have known at all. He abruptly sets his fork aside and puts both hands over his face with a sigh. He stays like that for a few seconds. "I wish you had," he says finally, voice muffled behind his hands. Then he lowers them and looks at Ranol. "But I do not fault you for not offering up such information on your own. I can understand your hesitancy." He pauses, then speaks again. "I hope you can appreciate that I cannot keep this to myself. I am...duty bound to tell my steward. But I will speak to Braldor first. If my steward already knows, then he will have no need of my telling him."
"Aye. You are as bound as I was to inform Braldor. I understand." The huskarl has more appetite, but he's had a couple of weeks to chew on the news and get used to the idea. He also saw the poor sap firsthand, and it's hard to stay angry at someone who clearly had no intention of hurting anyone. "Sometimes I have a difficult time determining what should be kept in confidence and what I can freely speak of. Maybe I was afraid to say anything." Ranol gives a slight shrug to indicate that he still isn't certain. "I am sorry, I am. It is difficult to hear."
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin seems to be slowly coming to terms with the news himself, but by the manner in which he continues to pick aimlessly at his plate, his appeptite does not look due to return. He nods absently at Ranol. "The difficulty of your profession, it would seem," he mutters, looking up at the huskarl from under his brows with a weak smile. "And mine sometimes as well, I suppose, but yours more often. He will be brought to trial, I assume? The dwarf who did this?" The silversmith does not say it as if he expects Ranol to know, more as if he needs to conjecture aloud.
"I would imagine.. He was incredibly upset Frarin. He never intended to hurt anyone. I think the Baruk Narag were talking of taking him directly to the king. They probably have already. Braldor likely knows more on the matter." Ranol still has his appetite. He rises early in the morning for training and is generally starving by lunchtime. Today is no exception.
[Frarin(#31050)] Unlike Ranol, Frarin seems to have no sympathy for the perpetrator, but little surprise there. "Regardless of his intent, it was ill-will towards Barazin and lack of professional knowledge that led to this catastrophe. I can appreciate that he might not have intended to hurt anyone, but he did, and he must be held accountable. Barazin will demand death, of that I have little doubt. You cannot be surprised."
The silversmith takes a sip of his beer and absently thumps his fingers on the tabletop as he looks at the far wall behind Ranol in thought. He takes a deep breath and exhales. "Well, thank you for telling me at least, Ranol. I did not expect that you would, whatever it was. Do you know where Braldor is now?"
"I know, Frarin. I am certain his fate will not be lenient." Ranol answers, but there is a softness to the response. One more death will not bring back the loss of others. "I trust you to be circumspect with the information, cousin. Not everyone would have taken it so well."
The huskarl shrugs at the question of his thane's location. "He is probably back in his office. I am heading that way after we finish eating."
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin nods absently, still drumming his fingers slowly across the scrubbed wooden surface. "I think that I shall join you then," he says quietly, tired. "If he does not already know, my steward should be aware of the investigation by this evening." That thought moodiness settles back over him and he lapses into silence again, aimlessly fiddling with the bandages about his left hand.
Here in the Greathall of Thrain, a command post of sorts has been set up for the repairs. An assortment of tools and materials have been gathered and set aside. Repairs in the hall itself have seen much of the damaged floor shorn up again and some brave traders have even set up stalls again. Frarin is once again amongst those busy cleaning up. He is near a wall of the hall, broom in hand, working with a number of others to sweep up the still inch-thick layer of dust carpeting the hall.
Ranol just happens to be passing by, the Huskarl not involved in any clean-up or repair efforts today. When he spots Frarin he changes direction and makes his way to the Barazin. "Good day, Frarin." He says with a smile, giving the older dwarf a short bow in greeting.
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin glances up as someone says his name nearby and he smiles and nods at Ranol when he spots him. "Good day, Ranol," he says, straightening and leaning on the end of his broom. His sleeves are rolled up. "How fare you, cousin? I've seen you hardly at all in the last weeks, though this has kept me, and likely you, busy enough as is."
"I am well.. far better than a great many of your kin, at least." Ranol responds, glancing around at the efforts of the dwarves nearby. "The repairs are moving along swiftly. I haven't had a chance to speak with Thari.. did your home take damages?" He asks, his blue eyes finding Frarin again.
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin nods somberly at the mention of those hurt in Barazin, then slightly less somberly at Ranol's question about Wellinghall. "Aye, it did. Most of the furniture will need repairing or replacing and all of the best china has spilt all over. But Wellinghall itself held together surprisingly well, save for part of the kitchen wall. But nay, it shall recover well enough." The silversmith too glances around the hall, where the air is still heavy with dust. "Have you been helping with the repairs?"
"A bit.. Not as much as I would like, but my duties have kept me busy with other matters. It's probably for the best, I don't have much of a mind for mining, anyhow." Ranol says with a small twist of a smile. "Have you had lunch yet, today? I have some time free.." He suggests with a hopeful expression on his face.
[Frarin(#31050)] "Aye, that would be fine indeed," Frarin nods, as if having considered the same proposition himself. He leans his broom up against the wall near him and takes off the gloves he has been wearing. Both hands have thin bandages wrapped about the centre of the palm. "I had been hoping to speak with you, actually. Shall we say the Longbeard?"
"Sure. Are you ready now? Do you need a hand with anything?" Ranol asks, shifting to stand in a more relaxed stance. He doesn't even notice the weight of the armor he wears so often anymore, it's only another layer of the garments he dons everyday. "What do you wish to speak of?"
[Frarin(#31050)] The Longbeard isn't too busy right now, just before the lunch rush and Frarin and Ranol don't have much trouble finding a table when they enter upon the tavern. Frarin choses one comfortably close to the fire and seats himself, absently inspecting the thin bandages on either hand. "As for what I wanted to talk about," he says, as if picking up the conversation without pause, "it's to do with the day of the quake, actually." He looks up and waves to the bar dwarf.
"Oh?" Ranol asks as he sets down his shield and the warhammer against the wall, then takes a seat. "What do you want to know about?" The huskarl asks, waving a server over when one looks their way.
[Frarin(#31050)] When the server comes to their table, Frarin orders a pint and a plate of the roast beef before looking back to Ranol. He stops fiddling with his bandages and leans forward, lowering his voice somewhat. "It was about when you went to visit the Baruk Narag, actually. Or what I assume was when you went to visit the Narag. You remember you said you were going to see if there might have been some foul play involved?" Frarin leans back and shrugs off-handedly.
"I still don't see how such a thing could be possible, but you -did- come back quite serious, clearly wanting to speak with Braldor in private." The silversmith pauses, lips parting as he studies Ranol for a reaction. "I'm not trying to poke about Bundazanul business, but given the day and hour, and what I know of you, I wondered if perhaps your reason for wishing to speak to your thane was anything to do with the quake. Or with Barazin."
Ranol's smile fades when Frarin picks a very specific topic of discussion. His gaze moves away from his friend's face as he tries to decide what to share and what to keep to himself. The server arrives at the table and the Huskarl orders a bowl of stew and a mug of beer, and doesn't speak until Frarin is done ordering.
"The Baruk Narag want the business kept quiet. They didn't want the investigation to get any interferance from Barazin. Swear to me that you will be discreet Frarin. It is news you will not like hearing."
[Frarin(#31050)] It is some time before Frarin answers Ranol. He sits quite still in his chair, breathing becoming deliberate, face a mix of emotions curiosity, mild surprise, perhaps even a certain wariness, as if unsure what to expect that Ranol will say. Indeed, the two dwarves' meals and drinks arrive before the silversmith sits forward and lowers his voice, eyes narrowing.
"I am an ambassador of my clan, cousin, keep that in mind in whatever you tell me," he says slowly, weaving his fingers together on the table before him. "I know when to keep my tongue from wagging, but just as your conscience will not allow you to keep certain things from Braldor, neither will mine allow me to keep certain things from my Steward. You may trust my discretion, but keep in mind my position when you say what you will."
"Aye, I know.. that is why I only ask for discretion, Frarin." Ranol answers, reaching for his mug of ale and taking a sip. He lifts his spoon and slowly stirs the stew he ordered, letting the food cool a bit. "It was not a quake, cousin. What happened .. it was an accident of a deliberate act of vandalism. Do you recall the dispute over the new chamber that the joint group of Barazin and Zinbar discovered?"
[Frarin(#31050)] Deep lines appear as Frarin's brows draw together. Though his hand curls around his mug of beer, he touches neither it nor his roast beef. His lips part, expression wary, and slightly confused. "Master Warven's chamber?" says the silversmith finally, tipping his head a bit to the side as if unwilling to believe such a tale.
"Deliberate vandalism?" he says, voice dropping to a whisper. He pauses a moment, then lets out a little breath and slowly shakes his head, lips still parted disbelievingly. "Nay...Nay, it cannot be. That is a heavy accusation. I do not think Zinbar capable of it, not even an offended individual. What proof have you of it? There is nought between here and Bree than could have caused such a quake without the aid of the Maker himself."
"He admits it. He only intended to collapse the new chamber when they were all off on a lunch break. He said he just wanted to make their work a bit harder. He miscalculated, I guess. I'm no miner, Frarin. I think they said he messed up on one of the support columns, picked one that was crucial? The dwarf was completely distraught when the Narag came upon him.. I saw him." Ranol takes a bite of his food now, letting his friend digest the grim news.
[Frarin(#31050)] "-He- admits it?" Frarin whispers sharply, head dipping forward in deep disbelief now. But clearly the silversmith is beginning to believe the tale, even if he still resonates shock. He is silent, leaning forward like that with quickening breathing until Ranol finishes speaking. Only then does he sit back in his chair as if having been struck across the face, breathing forced into a deliberate rythym.
Lips still parted, Frarin looks towards the ceiling as if somehow it will help to disprove what Ranol says. Not surprisingly, it does not. When he does speak, it is in an oddly forced way, looking at the table, and more to himself than the huskarl. "I suppose that if he...if he destroyed a weight-bearing column and...and enough of the floors above it collapsed, it could...it could...could set off a chain reaction. Very much like a quake. But...but the chances of such a happenstance are miniscule. It would take a whole combination of factors."
Muttering to himself thus, Frarin seems trying to process the unbelievable information. Finally he looks squarely at Ranol, lips closing grimly, brows heavy, though he looks composed. "Has Barazin been told? Has -anyone- in Barazin been told? There were 27 dwarves dead at the last count. Has -Barazin- been told?"
"I don't know, Frarin. The Narag are handling it, not I. I was there at the time, that is how I know. I reported to Braldor. I don't have any further business being involved. I'm not a Black Axe and they haven't exactly shared any further details with me." Ranol gives his friend an apologetic look. "You understand the need for discretion, right? It's a delicate matter."
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin's forced breathing continues, but his gaze becomes glassy with intense thought as it drops to the tabletop again. He looks almost sick, eyes unusually wide and blinking. Finally though, he does give a very small nod towards the tabletop in answer to Ranol's question. "There has been not a whisper of this amongst Barazin's elders," says the silversmith after a time in a low rumble, looking up at Ranol. "Not a one that I have heard. Has Braldor spoken to our Steward? Please cousin, tell me not that Barazin has been kept in the blind when Bundazanul has known for fully two weeks."
"Frarin, do not put this on Braldor, please. I told you, the Baruk Narag that were with me wanted to keep it quiet until they had time to investigate fully. I don't believe anything is being covered up, I think it was only the intent to keep things calm when people needed to be focusing on other matters. I had a hard enough time concentrating that day, knowing the truth." Ranol rubs the back of his neck, then suggests. "Go and talk to Braldor. I really don't know anything else beyond what I have told you. Perhaps he did speak to some?"
[Frarin(#31050)] "I am not putting this on Braldor alone," Frarin says, an edge in his voice, but his composure remaining. "And I am not implying that anything has been covered up. But you knew, and Braldor knew, and at least some of the Narag knew. If it comes to be that not a soul in Barazin was told, when it was the target of the vandalism and the worst sufferer of it, when its neighbours all around knew--" Frarin shakes his head slowly, almost wearily now "--then there will be more than ill feelings towards Zinbar."
He leans back, eyes flicking to his plate, then back to Ranol. "Perhaps he did," he mutters finally, and as if at a loss for anything else to do, he begins to absently cut up his lunch.
"I knew because I was there Frarin.. I have only spoken to Braldor about it.. and to you. I have not even told Hildis." Ranol says softly, a guilty expression on his face now. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should have told you sooner, it was poor judgement." Or maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all. The huskarl lifts his beer to take another sip.
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin takes a tentative bite of his roast beef and follows it with a sip from his beer, but he no longer looks in the mood for eating. Indeed, he looks almost as if he would rather not have known at all. He abruptly sets his fork aside and puts both hands over his face with a sigh. He stays like that for a few seconds. "I wish you had," he says finally, voice muffled behind his hands. Then he lowers them and looks at Ranol. "But I do not fault you for not offering up such information on your own. I can understand your hesitancy." He pauses, then speaks again. "I hope you can appreciate that I cannot keep this to myself. I am...duty bound to tell my steward. But I will speak to Braldor first. If my steward already knows, then he will have no need of my telling him."
"Aye. You are as bound as I was to inform Braldor. I understand." The huskarl has more appetite, but he's had a couple of weeks to chew on the news and get used to the idea. He also saw the poor sap firsthand, and it's hard to stay angry at someone who clearly had no intention of hurting anyone. "Sometimes I have a difficult time determining what should be kept in confidence and what I can freely speak of. Maybe I was afraid to say anything." Ranol gives a slight shrug to indicate that he still isn't certain. "I am sorry, I am. It is difficult to hear."
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin seems to be slowly coming to terms with the news himself, but by the manner in which he continues to pick aimlessly at his plate, his appeptite does not look due to return. He nods absently at Ranol. "The difficulty of your profession, it would seem," he mutters, looking up at the huskarl from under his brows with a weak smile. "And mine sometimes as well, I suppose, but yours more often. He will be brought to trial, I assume? The dwarf who did this?" The silversmith does not say it as if he expects Ranol to know, more as if he needs to conjecture aloud.
"I would imagine.. He was incredibly upset Frarin. He never intended to hurt anyone. I think the Baruk Narag were talking of taking him directly to the king. They probably have already. Braldor likely knows more on the matter." Ranol still has his appetite. He rises early in the morning for training and is generally starving by lunchtime. Today is no exception.
[Frarin(#31050)] Unlike Ranol, Frarin seems to have no sympathy for the perpetrator, but little surprise there. "Regardless of his intent, it was ill-will towards Barazin and lack of professional knowledge that led to this catastrophe. I can appreciate that he might not have intended to hurt anyone, but he did, and he must be held accountable. Barazin will demand death, of that I have little doubt. You cannot be surprised."
The silversmith takes a sip of his beer and absently thumps his fingers on the tabletop as he looks at the far wall behind Ranol in thought. He takes a deep breath and exhales. "Well, thank you for telling me at least, Ranol. I did not expect that you would, whatever it was. Do you know where Braldor is now?"
"I know, Frarin. I am certain his fate will not be lenient." Ranol answers, but there is a softness to the response. One more death will not bring back the loss of others. "I trust you to be circumspect with the information, cousin. Not everyone would have taken it so well."
The huskarl shrugs at the question of his thane's location. "He is probably back in his office. I am heading that way after we finish eating."
[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin nods absently, still drumming his fingers slowly across the scrubbed wooden surface. "I think that I shall join you then," he says quietly, tired. "If he does not already know, my steward should be aware of the investigation by this evening." That thought moodiness settles back over him and he lapses into silence again, aimlessly fiddling with the bandages about his left hand.
Players: Frarin, Ranol
Located in: Erebor
